


The haircut

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Haircuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 16:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18098144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: cap, whiteIllya doesn't like having his hair cut.





	The haircut

“The young lady is a kidnap risk while her father is in the US,” Waverly said, waving his pipe.

“Is she pretty?” Napoleon wanted to know.

Waverly turned a jaundiced eye upon him. “Whether she is or not – and I don’t know – your job is to protect her and take her to a safe house.” He paused and added, “there will be a female companion to guard her, thereafter.”

Illya turned away concealing a smile. The movement drew Waverly’s attention.

“Mr Kuryakin, get your hair cut! I don’t want to see you again until you have. See that he does before you go, Mr Solo.” Waverly sounded as if he meant it this time.

Illya stalked furiously along the corridor beside his smiling partner. Neither spoke: Illya out of rage; Napoleon partly out of compassion and partly to save his skin. They parted at the door to their office and Illya swept off as Napoleon called, “See you in the garage, later,” and saw him wave an impatient hand.

An hour later, Napoleon still waiting in the car, wondered where on earth his hirsute friend could have got to. He was cutting it pretty fine if they were to make the rendez-vous in good time.

The door opened and his partner slid into the driving seat. Napoleon looked round and almost laughed. His voice was a little strained as he observed, “Nice cap, where did you get it?”

“I had to go a couple of blocks.”

“It’s kind of warm today… won’t you be a little hot in it?”

Illya refused to answer and started the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel. They shot out of the garage, to the danger of any unwary pedestrian in the area, and took off at speed. Napoleon braced himself, saying mildly, “We don’t want to pick up a traffic cop, Illya, slow down a little.”

Illya raised his foot from the accelerator and the car slowed to a legal speed.

“That’s it, nice and steady. You can put your foot down when we get on the highway.”

“Thank you, Napoleon. I might just do that,” Illya uttered through clenched teeth.

Napoleon looked down at the instructions in his lap. “You’ll need to, we’re running late,” he said.

They were half an hour late arriving but by then Napoleon was almost white to the lips. Illya liked to drive fast but usually fairly safely. The sight of the end of that truck… but Illya had found a gap and slipped into it, so here they were. Don’t say anything. Wait till the journey back and offer to drive…

<><> 

He kept the cap on for the whole time, like a kid who can’t bear to take off his new possession. Napoleon consoled himself that it was a reasonable disguise and gave him the appearance of a chauffeur. It made their relationship less easily recognisable as a partnership. Whether a chauffeur would have looked that sulky was another matter, but no doubt it was a common characteristic. Napoleon hoped so. It was clearly going to need a considerable outlay on dinner to resolve.

The young woman wasn’t best pleased at being kept waiting and was unimpressed by Napoleon’s attempts to charm her. It never worked well on very young women: he performed best for older more sophisticated women. But she was baffled by the man she assumed was the chauffeur whose monster sulk far outdid her own. When Napoleon offered to drive, she was surprised at such concern for a servant.

“It’s his job, isn’t it?” she said. “Why keep a dog and bark yourself? Tell him I want to sit in the front.”

This earned her such a scorching look from the supposed chauffeur that she almost took a step back. “Better not,” said Napoleon, keeping his amusement to himself. “Sit with me – he doesn’t like to be disturbed while he’s driving.”

“You ought to find someone you can boss around,” she said. “There must be dozens of people you could employ.”

“Ah, but no-one with his skills in quantum mechanics,” Napoleon replied.

“There must be even more mechanics you could employ,” she retorted.

Napoleon caught Illya’s fulminating eye in the mirror and laughed. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “He’s a pearl beyond price.”

Illya’s expression changed to one of gratified surprise, until: “He needs to get his hair cut, then,” said the young woman, “it’s sticking out under that cap.”

Now frowning horribly, Illya floored the accelerator and abruptly released the brake so that the car sprang forward flinging her back against the seat and making her scream.

“Like I said,” Napoleon reminded her, “it’s best not to disturb him when he’s driving.”

<><><><> 


End file.
